


Every Christmas/ Every Town

by DenseHumboldt



Series: Advent 2019 [4]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Actor AU, Advent 2019, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, Gift Fic, Yonvers - Freeform, Yonvers film a hallmark movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenseHumboldt/pseuds/DenseHumboldt
Summary: Carol Danvers' life has fallen apart. Her band is no more and the life she used to live is not the one she wants.Yon Rogg is a world class actor forced to take on a gig he hates.Their lives collide on the studio lot in California's Winter Wonderland.Hollywood AU
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg
Series: Advent 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565644
Comments: 49
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PandoraCleo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraCleo/gifts).



> Welcome to PandoraCleo's gift exchange fic!
> 
> A little trope-y and a little sappy. I hope you guys have fun  
> ❤💜💚💙DH
> 
> (Side Note: I needed a reason Yon would be filming a Christmas movie if he was famous, so any resemblance to certain instances in the Actor who plays Yon's life are purely coincidental and the author passes no judgment on any rumours/events involving real people.)

Carol Danvers was reinventing herself. Or at least she was trying to. It had been a rough year. Hell, it had been a rough six years. She just wanted something new, something different, something that didn't feel like it was killing her.

Maybe making a big sappy Christmas movie wasn't the classiest or coolest way to do it, but what a kick in the pants to all those Mother's for Purity who had burned her records and posters. Or the shock jocks who had started a clock for her eighteenth birthday then called her nonstop the week of, trying to get an interview. Or her ex, who had sold his tell-all to a trashy grocery store rag.

"Fuck them," she thought as she sat on the railing of her trailer looking out at the bustling studio lot. Carol Danvers was in a Christmas Miracle and no one was going to give her shit ever again.

* * *

The second Yon Rogg saw the set he called his agent. This was a trap. He should have known it was a trap when they wouldn't send him the script.

"We need to talk," he said the second the line picked up.

"Deep breaths. Be calm. Find your center. Stay away from paps and PAs," Minerva's annoyingly distant voice filtered down the line.

"Don't quote that Los Angeles garbage at me. This is a travesty," Yon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt like Dorothy, in some warped Land of Oz. If only he could click his heels and say 'there is no place like home.'

"Listen, Yon," Min started carefully. This was well tread ground between them but for the first time, his artistic integrity was on the line. "You wanted to leave England, you wanted the Hollywood career, you're the one that fucked the babysitter-"

"I didn't fuck the babysitter," he hissed. He looked over his shoulder making sure no one could hear him. He felt constantly watched. No moment was safe. "You've known me for fifteen years. Who are you going to believe? Me or Tawny?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, Yon knew his agent was either putting on the kettle or lighting a cigarette, depending on the time. He had lost track of what time it was in London. He pictured his calls coming in the dead of night when the LA sun was shining. The two places always inverted.

"Yon," she said patiently. This was another conversation that had been happening for months. "You're too old to be learning the lesson that the truth doesn't matter. That who you are doesn't matter. Not to Americans. And sure as hell not to the people who make their bread and butter by carving every hint of scandal they can out of the people they wish they were."

"This can't be the only option," he pleaded. Minerva sighed.

"It's not. Come home."

Yon froze. He could go home. He could pack up and not look back. Except she was still here and she needed him. As much as anyone ever had.

"I promised Sunny I would stay," he said low into the phone. "Just until her Dad gets back."

"She isn't your kid, Yon," Min chided him. "And living in LA is expensive. This only works if you have an income. Greetings Channel is willing to pay you enough you can keep a small apartment until the New Year. If Ronan's back by then."

Ronan was in New York, Tawny his ex-wife was in LA and Sunny their daughter was stuck between the two places. Yon felt responsible for her. Even if he rarely saw her, even if Tawny hated that her daughter called him when things got bad. Even though she had been ten when he started dating Tawny. Ronan was due back in the new year. He had a movie deal. He would cancel on his daughter but he wouldn't cancel on the studio.

"He'll be back," Yon muttered trying to sound certain.

"Just do us all a favour and stay the hell away from your costar when the camera's not rolling."

* * *

Greetings Channel was a subsidiary of a larger corporation which was, in turn, part of an even larger conglomerate. Their employees were like the many heads of a hydra. As soon as one was put off, another two seemed to spring forth. They were as stressful as they were annoying.

Carol had become adept at hiding from them. Today it was by climbing into the rafters in the prop warehouse. Beneath her was the little pieces of magic that made Greetings Channel movies what they were, fulfilling fluff, where sleigh rides were always cozy and Christmas trees were always perfectly decorated in two-tone metallics.  
She had made it into the rafters by climbing onto a tractor then walking up the sloped roof of an ice skating hut she was certain she had seen in at least eight movies. From there she could tuck onto one of the fat beams that crossed the old converted barn.

She just wanted to be alone. She wanted to read her script and try to stomp the nervous butterflies that were currently trying to choke her. She had been avoiding her costar for the same reason. She was not an actor, she was a star, there was a difference and she knew it. Her costar was the real deal. Yon Rogg more acting talent in his pinky than she contained in her whole body. She wanted him to like her. She wanted to learn from him. And he terrified her.

She flipped back to their first scene together. She liked the story. It wasn't fresh or exciting. It was comfortable. It was familiar. It was a little silly. It was everything she wanted to live inside.

Her character, Mae Bright, was a Christmas tree decorator who landed a contract decorating all the Christmas trees in a fancy hotel. Where she meets the dashing and romantic British Prince who is laying low for the holidays. And the usual love affair ensues. If she saw the description in her TV guide when she was fourteen she would have dropped everything to watch it. She would have recorded it on a cassette and burnt it out with rewatching.

Ten years later the world was different but it was also the same. She sighed as she tried to picture standing across from Yon Rogg and saying these ridiculous things to him.

Below her she heard the heavy doors open.

"Well where the hell is she?" Fury the director was talking to someone. She thought she recognized Maria's footsteps. "She better not be pulling the same shit-"

"Carol's a professional what happened in Beijing was not on her," Maria interjected. Carol's stomach flipped. Fury knew about Beijing. Of course, he did. She thudded her head back against the post. Everyone knew everything. There was no escape. She chewed her cheek. "I'll call her."

Carol panicked scrambling for her phone as it started to ring. She pressed it to her stomach trying to deaden the sound. She could hear Maria and Fury looking around for her. She waited until their voices faded and she slipped down from the rafter. She slid down the pitch of the roof and began to drop onto the hood of the tractor.

"Set Insurance doesn't cover broken necks because you were up in the ceiling."

Carol froze her body awkwardly hanging off the eaves. She knew that voice. Everyone knew that voice.

She dropped, wincing at the thud of the tractor hood denting. She turned in her crouch to look at him.

"I thought you'd be taller," she blurted out. His eyes widened and his lip twitched. He looked down at his shoes for a moment before walking over to her. Carol tried not to panic. He was handsome in real life. The kindness in his signature yellow eyes was not a camera trick.

"So you're Vers," he observed looking at her up and down. It made her spine tingle even as she bristled at the use of her stage name. Pegasus had gone up in smoke. Beijing had killed it. She was not Vers, blonde scratchy-throated frontwoman of the biggest band for girls in their teens through mid-twenties. She wasn't a gimmick or a demographic. She was in a winter fucking wonderland.

"I prefer Carol," she said cooly. She ignored that he offered her his hand and slid off the hood on her own.

"What were you doing up there?" He tucked his hand into his pockets. It never got cold in California but there was something about the Greetings Channel compound that made people cozy up. He was wearing corduroy pants and a loose navy sweater. Carol's pyjama pants had giant winged hearts on them. He looked like a professor, refined and relaxed. She looked like an American teenager who thought PJs outside were the height of rebellion. She fiddled with her black plastic bracelets.

"Learning my lines," she shrugged. She tried to look him in the eye. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Why bother?" He said at last.

"Excuse me?" She straightened her shoulders.

"It's drivel. Why worry about it?" He looked her up and down slowly. Shots fired. Carol felt anger swirling in her gut.

"Isn't that what actors do? Learn their lines?"

He hadn't even introduced himself. He just assumed she knew who he was. She was wrong about the kindness. It was disinterest.

"Are you an actor?" He leaned into her a little. He whispered it into the air as if it was a secret they shared, that she didn't belong here.

"I got the part, just like you," she narrowed her eyes at him. He turned away from her walking along the lines of fake trees. Even walking, he was fascinating. He looked like a lovable single father at a Christmas tree lot. He would be excited his daughter would be coming to his hometown for Christmas.

Or the charmed and befuddled big-city academic who was about to learn the true meaning of Christmas.

And Carol was no one. She was just observing the scene. Her edgy hair cut and scowl didn't belong wherever he was.

"I don't remember auditioning," he said nonchalantly. Was he bragging? She hadn't really auditioned either. She had thought they wanted her.

"Yeah well if their cheque cleared maybe you should try," she raised her eyebrows. He stopped looking at the massive nutcracker and turned to her, something unreadable behind his eyes.

"You're right. No need to be unprofessional," he took a step closer to her. "Are you staying on the lot? I heard the accommodations are top of the line. Every room has a fire extinguisher."

Her gut clenched. She could smell the acrid stench of burning plastic, a wall of smoke as dark as night pressing against her mouth.

"Well, you know studios. They love to babysit. Make sure everyone behaves. No photos, no rumours."

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at her.

"There you are," Maria called out emerging from between two fake ice sculptures. Reindeer glittering mid-prance. "Fury wants to go over the schedule. And tonight is the crew dinner, you need to drop by. And change. What are you wearing?"

Maria stepped back to look at Carol's outfit.

"Clothes," Carol muttered. Maria moved her eyes to behind Carol.

"Good, you two have met."

"Yeah, we met." Carol grabbed Maria's arm and started dragging her out of the warehouse while her best friend slash personal assistant protested trying to keep Carol's costar in her sights.

"I guess we'll see you later," Maria said helplessly trying to communicate with her eyes that Carol was acting crazy.

"I'll know my lines and everything," Carol called out. Nothing was going to ruin this for her. Not even a British Grinch is corduroy slacks.


	2. Chapter 2

Carol had promised Maria she would stop drinking. They had had the conversation in the Beijing airport, Carol's hoodie still smelled of smoke and Maria had bags under her eyes from dealing with the chaos. Carol had been numb but in that moment she would have given Maria anything she had asked for because Carol wasn't an asshole.

Truth be told it hadn't been hard. Not in the way she had expected it to be, not in the way she had been prepared for. She had worked herself into tears imagining shaking and crying as she poured out bottles and struggled to sleep. Instead, she had felt desperate boredom and isolation. It was as if her translator had been ripped from her and she was stranded on an alien landscape. What she had lost was knowing who she was when she walked into a room. She had lost the oblivion and the easy excuse when she wanted to lash out. She had lost the way to fill time when dread descended and she felt like a fraud.

It was not dramatic it was a different type of stagnation. Instead of lying at the bottom of the pool she was floating on its surface. Like pond scum.

The crew dinner was its own test. She had to go. She felt grateful to these people. They were Marias. They worked hard so she didn't make a fool of herself. They also frightened her.

The dinner was held inside a restaurant set across the lot from the dorms. It was tradition to have dinner the night before a shoot. It was meant to be a postcard-perfect night. Gaffers passing the potatoes to the DP and everyone being reminded of the family values that were the backbone of the Greetings Channel mission.

"Apparently, they're orgies with cranberry sauce," Maria leaned in and whispered as they hustled their butts across the lot. It wasn't chilly but seeing banks of fake snow made you want to shiver. Carol had grown up with snow soaked mittens and rosy windburned cheeks. She had missed it since moving to LA.

"When does the cranberry sauce make an entrance?" Carol asked linking her arm in Maria's.

"Lord, I hope it's on the turkey and not on them bumping uglies," she shuddered. "I hate being sticky."

"Maria Rambeau, your daughter is waiting for you at home. What kind of Greetings Channel Ambassador would you be if you participated in a gelatin soaked sex party?"

"You're not guilting this Mama Bear, Carol Danvers," Maria bumped her shoulder. "Ma and Vern have Monica until tomorrow morning."

Carol gasped in fake shock, "a skank, on the Greetings Channel lot?"

Maria let go of her so she could punch her arm. "It's my turn. I have earned it after hauling the Skunk Bunch around for six years."

Carol laughed, "I can't believe you called us the Skunk Bunch. That hurts."

"All you idiots wore was black and white checks and you reeked of reefer."

Carol couldn't deny her. Pegasus had been a Hot Topic dream.

She stuck her tongue out, "only moms call it 'reefer'."

"Now you get to be squeaky clean and I am going to be the life of the party."

Carol rolled her eyes as they came up on the set. From the outside, it was just a blank square building. There was something alive about it, an energy that said inside a party was raging. Carol sucked in the tepid LA air and braced herself. Maria opened the door and a wall of sound hit them. The set had part of the ceiling removed so the lights and cameras could crane through. All the tables had been pushed together to make one raucous line. Each seat was filled, people talking over each other and passing sagging foil containers of food. A jukebox was playing _What's New Pussycat_ and despite the blaring, it could only barely be heard over the rabble. Carol's steps slowed. She felt the immediate discomfort she thought only existed at middle school dances. The abject certainty she was freak.

Fury was sitting at the end of the table, his chair turned out and his eyes watching the room carefully. He held a beer between his knees but it was mostly full. He spotted Maria and Carol's entrance and waved them over.

He stood up as the came near and clasped a hand on Carol's shoulder.

"Thanks for coming," he muttered even though his look was dark and less than enthusiastic. He turned to the table and turned on the brightest smile Carol had seen. 

"Hey, animals," he called out. They turned to him in a hush and Carol wished the floor would open up beneath her. "It's our star's first shoot tomorrow. Everyone give her a proper Greetings Channel welcome."

There was a pause and then a cacophony of cheers and applause. Ranging from warm to half-hearted before they each returned to their food. Carol waved awkwardly and was grateful when Fury released her.

"Nervous?" He asked returning to his seat.

"A little," Carol smiled.

"You'll be fine. I've worked it so you shoot with me for a couple of days before we bring Rogg into this."

Carol hoped she didn't look too relieved but judging by the knowing smile Fury gave her she obviously didn't succeed. Perhaps she couldn't act.

"I get it," Fury said. Maria, Carol noticed had already melted into the crowd. "It's like being expected to take care of a tiger because you have a house cat. None of us feel worthy."

"Really?" Carol leaned in a little closer. Fury was an intimidating figure on set but he seemed to see people for who they were. Even if he didn't trust them to tie their own shoes.

"I mean, I'll be fine. I can fire his ass."

Carol laughed. Sitting felt like too great an intrusion so she stayed standing.

"Do you think he will come tonight?" She looked around her.

"He might," Fury leaned in and beckoned her closer. "Don't think you have to like him to act like you're in love with him. And don't think you have to make him like you. At the end of this shoot, we are all walking away with a paycheck and a handshake."

Carol nodded and tried to smile. She knew he was trying to comfort her but she still clung to wanting this to be more.

"Go sit," Fury waved her away. "Sound men are the most fun and you want the lighting crew to like you."

Carol saluted and tucked her hands in her pockets. She didn't want to admit they all looked the same to her.

* * *

Yon hovered outside the set building. He was waiting for Min to pick up. The sound down the line was a hollow buzz as it reached across the ocean. The hinge of his flip phone dug into his shoulder.

"Everything is good, find your breath, today is a gift that is why they call it the present," Min murmured in his ear as soon as she picked up. He had woken her up, he could hear the sleep clinging to her voice.

"You're such a bitch," he answered her. He heard her sigh and the mattress shift as she rolled to her side. Julia would be in bed with her. She would be trying not to wake her. Yon could picture the domesticity of it. The comfort. He longed for something so normal.

"Are you going to call me every time you have a crisis? Don't you have friends?"

"Do I have to go?" He asked over her.

"Whatever it is, yes you have to go," Min answered on the edge of sleep.

"This place is like a prison," he whispered. His eyes always darting for interlopers. There was some relief knowing the paparazzi couldn't get this close.

"American Industrial Movie Compound is the preferred term," Min yawned.

"I met my costar today," he interjected. Min was silent for a moment.

"Stay away from her."

"That won't be a problem. She thinks I am an asshole."

"Smart girl."

"I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't like the bad publicity that follows her. I don't know have an opinion of her personally."

Yon paused bouncing his weight from foot to foot. 

"Why is she doing this?" He understood why he was here but why was she?

"You will have to ask her yourself," Min yawned again.

"I thought I was supposed to stay away from her?"

"Then I guess it will remain a mystery," Minerva's voice sounded like it was growing distant. "Goodnight Yon, go do your fucking job."

The line went dead and Yon closed the phone with a snap. He dropped it in his pocket and steeled himself against whatever scene was on the other side of the door.

He had missed the food but he was grateful. Judging by the swirls of pink on the plates it had been standard American fare, vaguely horrifying. The crew were in clumps around the set; some danced, others spoke with wide gestures and loud laughing, most were drinking.

He felt the crowd silence and part for him as it always did. He felt like an exotic bird sometimes the way people stared. He always tried to smile. If you couldn't belong you could at least be obliging.

Parties with Tawny had felt this way. It was part of the reason she liked him, but he had realized that later. She liked being the centre of attention. Untouchable.

He drifted at the edge of the crowd. He snagged a drink from the bar. The woman who had come for Vers was leaning against it. She smiled at him. She had told him her name. He had forgotten it.

"You look uncomfortable," she shouted over the crowd. The wall of people swallowed her voice so he could still barely hear her. He drank the cold gin, running his tongue over his teeth. Americans seemed to covet sweet things.

"Of course not," he answered her. He smiled, allowing his eyes to soften. He didn't want her to know.

"It's okay," she put a hand on his arm for the briefest moment. They were affectionate too. "I practically had to drag Carol here."

Yon instinctively looked out to the crowd. So she had come. Now he was looking he caught sight of her choppy blonde hair and scoop-necked sweater. He could see her pale shoulder as she leaned in and smiled at a tall man with a ginger beard and agate eyes. A dark-haired man had his arm over the back of her chair. She held a beer in her hand but he noticed she didn't drink.

Her assistant followed his eyes. Vers looked up at her. The woman raised her eyebrow and Vers lifted her bottle. Marking on the neck with her thumb that it was still full. Then she saw Rogg and her smile dimmed before she turned back to her companions. He knew her assistant marked it.

"She is a bitch when she is nervous," the woman said leaning easily into his space. Yon was certain she was a little intoxicated. "She puked when she found out you were going to be her costar."

"Is that a good thing?" Yon asked reaching over the bar and filling his glass back up to the brim with gin. The woman laughed. He hadn't been joking.

"Now, I am not so sure but tell her I told you and I will make you disappear."

Yon clinked his glass with hers and tried to laugh.

Carol watched them carefully. She tried to keep one ear on the conversation happening around her but Maria drunk had loose lips. Especially when the person in question was handsome. At least he looked uncomfortable, she thought.

"Are you excited about tomorrow?" Bron asked her, Carol forced her eyes back to him as his meaning sunk in.

"Excited is the wrong word, terrified of making a fool of myself," she smiled.

"You'll do great," Atlas assured her. He reached over with his beer and clinked hers. If he noticed she didn't drink after he didn't make a fuss. It was a good prop. It kept her hands busy and no one offered her a drink.

They talked for a while after that, Carol lost track of Maria but she could always feel Yon in the room. Like a shark swimming at the edges of the pool. The party was beginning to pair off and clear out. She could feel it. The change in the air. She was used to this in a way but it felt different sober, the sweat from the too-hot room drying beneath her sweater and the smell of cigarettes was giving her a headache. Atlas' arm had been creeping tighter around her shoulders. He kept smiling and talking to Bron but she felt like a python was on the back of her chair. She smiled and stood up. She slipped away from them.

They let her go as their conversation started to slip into upcoming union negotiations. She couldn't find Maria. She wandered through the remains of the party and poked her head into the eddies of people. Belatedly it occurred to her to check her phone. She pulled out the pink rectangle and the small screen had a blinking envelope on it.

She flipped it open and read the message.

It was short and to the point. g _one 2 form cu 2morrow_

Maria must like whoever she had taken home if she used one of her few text messages to let Carol know where she had gone instead of coming to find her.

She was texting back "skank", hitting the seven four times to get to the 's' when she tripped on shoes. Large hands reached out and caught her but not before her beer, that she had haphazardly tucked under one arm, poured all over her jeans.

Carol let out a stream of curses as she tried to right herself and step over the puddle of beer and turn to see who she had tripped on.

"Why are you sitting like that?" She asked looking accusingly at his feet stuck out from the chair.

"Why are you texting while walking?" He fired back. He shoved himself up a little dizzily from his chair. She was close enough to notice the warm way he smelled, of liquor and sweat. Maybe a little lemon rind. Of course, she could not judge as she would reek of beer.

She snapped her phone shut and shoved it in her pocket. She looked at him more carefully.

"We should get out of here," she said putting her beer on a nearby table.

"Excuse me?" He muttered but his head fell forward and he moved his hand over his face. He was drunk. And alone. She had been there.

"They are starting to pair off for the orgy," she said trying to make him laugh. Instead, he looked at her with his earnest eyes as if he was looking deeper into her than anyone ever had. She wanted to poke his eye with her finger. "We should leave."

She took his lapels and started to haul him up. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward. He wasn't that much taller but he seemed to fill all her senses.

"Are you suggesting we 'pair off'?" He mumbled. His weight was pushing on her and she wondered if she was the only thing holding him up. His voice somehow managed to be dismissive and warm. As if he was rejecting her but still wanted her to say 'yes'.

"No, I am saying this isn't our party and we should exit with a little professionalism."

"Ah yes, we are professionals," he said mockingly. He righted himself and Carol felt she could breathe again. She tugged his arm and he started walking. His gait was loping and tended to lean towards her as he veered just right of his path.

She muttered encouraging things as she pinballed him out of the party. If she was annoying him, he didn't show it. She assumed she just formed part of the background noise as she got him outside.

The lot was quiet, above them, the stars were faded by the light pollution but she still looked up. Only the brightest stars managed to push through the sickly orange halo. Yon had the fingers of one hand tented against his temple. Carol wondered if he was much of a drinker.

"Are you okay?" She asked. The beer on her pants was pulling in the cold and making her more than a little miserable.

"Champion," he muttered. His accent was a little thicker. It made her smile.

She started walking her hands shoved in the pockets of her leather jacket. She heard his feet on the gravel behind her. A little skidding and stumbling but moving in the right direction.

The lot was a strange place, each set and warehouse mixed. The interiors were inside the small beige squares and the exteriors rose up in their quaint wholesome shapes. The technical departments had legions of small trailers in front that could be dragged wherever they needed to go. Same with the cast trailers. The small eddies outside sets a reminder that other Christmas miracles were wrapping just as theirs was beginning. She felt useful and part of something for the first time in a long time.

"You're smiling," Yon Rogg observed from behind her. She didn't know how he knew but he was right. This place made her happy. "Why?"

"It's not the company," Carol called over her shoulder. She stalled her steps so he could catch up with her. "Are you okay?"

"You keep asking that," he answered as he drew alongside her.

"Puking would be a bad idea. Santa will put coal in your stocking."

"It's October, I have a long time to earn his forgiveness," Yon looked at her for a moment. He smiled and she didn't know why. Or why she smiled back.

"It's Christmas," she stuck out her tongue.

"You Americans and your holidays," he shook his head but it wasn't without affection. "All Sunny talks about is Halloween. Then it will be all about Thanksgiving. You are inconsistent in your passions."

"Just because we celebrate normal things. No St. Norbert's day fish for us."

Yon paused for a moment, "you made that one up."

"You had to think about it," Carol accused with a twitch of her lip. Yon laughed.

"At least, our holidays have a little dignity. I don't understand your obsession with pageantry."

"It's called 'fun'."

They walked in silence for a little bit. The dorm was growing larger in the distance. The walk seemed shorter on the way to the party.

"Who is Sunny?" She asked to fill the space.

"My ex's daughter," he answered. His mouth twitched and she wondered what he wasn't saying.

"You still talk?"

"On occasion."

She let it slide. It was none of her business. He seemed less drunk now, the fresh air always helped. He looked around though, his eyes always scanning. He kept his distance too. If she stepped closer he guided his path so there was always an arm span between them.

They reached the dorm and he pulled open the door. She ducked under his arm and fished her key out of her pocket. He hovered behind her as she unlocked the vestibule door. It made her nervous. She had butterflies. It felt familiar coming home with a man, having him wait as she fumbled with the lock. She pulled open the door and they walked into the beige utilitarian lobby.

"What floor?" She asked as she called the elevator.

"Third," he answered, still hovering behind her. She nodded. Her too.

The elevator arrived with a rumble. She stepped in and he followed her. She hit the three and leaned against the mirrored back wall. His eyes slid from the button to her. She wondered if he thought she was making a move. She kept her eyes on her shoes and gnawed her lip. The doors opened and she sprung out first.

"Well, I am that way," she said pointing over her shoulder to the other end of the hall. She smiled at him as he stepped out after her. He felt very close. "Stay out of the mini-bar."

"Thank you," he said lowly. He leaned forward and she froze. He kissed her cheek, his nose cold from outside but his mouth was warm. He stayed close to her hovering for a moment. 

"For what?" She asked thickly.

"For the escort," he shrugged. He turned the other way and walked down the hallway. Carol watched him and her heart thudded.

"Traitor," she murmured to herself as she made her feet turn so she could not see what room was his. At least she thought, Fury had made it so they wouldn't see each other for a few days.

* * *

Carol was in the make-up chair, she was exhausted. Her call had been for three in the morning. Her hairstylist was equally bleary-eyed as she sewed long blonde hair into Carol's blunt choppy cut.

"Wouldn't a wig be easier," she asked as she bent her head forward. The stylist yawned and reached for her coffee.

"Long days," she answered in a gravelly voice. "You'll thank me after your first eighteen-hour shoot."

"Are you serious?"

"They can't crank these things out in two weeks without working us all to death."

"Why does anyone agree to that?" Carol asked as a wardrobe assistant came in with a garment bag.

"Getting paid is a huge draw," her stylist answered. "Consistent work means we can stay with our families. It keeps us together."

Carol didn't have an answer to that. Her family was Maria and her daughter. She was their livelihood. She understood the pressure of providing even when your life felt like it was spiralling beyond your control.

The tech unzipped the bag and Carol could see bright red chiffon in the mirror. She sat up and felt her hair pull.

"That's not right," she said. "We are shooting the office today."

The tech opened her mouth when the trailer door opened.

"Morning Sunshine," Fury said. A little too chipper for Carol's comfort. "I hope you like rewrites."

"What?" Carol felt the panic rising as she turned to look at him. She felt her stylist's hand on her shoulder, pulling her back against the chair. Fury chucked her a script dotted with pink pages.

Carol caught it as the sound of someone coming up the metal stairs echoed in the trailer.

"Change of plans. To fit all this new shit in we have to get the party sequence out of the way. Start studying, kid."

No, no, no Carol's mind rebelled. The party scene was huge. It meant she had to tell Yon's character she loved him. She had to break up with him, she had to dance. She thought she was going to puke.

Behind her, the door opened and she could see Yon, dark circled and dishevelled, in the mirror.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last chapter of my Advent 2019!  
> This fic will go on a brief hiatus (a week or more) as I get my creative projects for 2020 rolling
> 
> Thank you for all the love in 2019. You have my whole heart.  
> 💙💜💚❤ DH

Carol's first instinct had been to run. It was only the iron grip her stylist had on her hair that stopped her standing up immediately. She couldn't look away from him. He held her eyes for a moment as if weighing the fear he saw in them. Then he smiled at the crew around him and reached his hand out to Fury.

"Good morning Nicholas," he said in his beautiful refined voice that made Carol want to hurl into the nearest trash can.

"Fury," he corrected taking his hand in a firm grip.

"My apologies," Yon smiled. Carol fought the urge to mimic him.

"Did you get the script?" Fury asked looking his lead actor up and down as if he could still smell the hangover on him.

"I did," Yon produced it from the inside pocket of his tweed coat. Carol curled her lip. She wondered why hers had not been delivered to her room. Maybe Fury knew he would never get her out of bed if she knew the schedule was changing on her.

Fury nodded seeing they had what they needed. He knocked on the thin frame of the door frame before leaving. Carol could hear him already shouting orders across the lot outside.  


She flipped through it wondering about the dense section of pink pages nestled in the third act. She regarded it as one might a hornet nest. She couldn't look at it now. She needed to focus. She had a rough idea of the sequence they would begin with but the pink pages were making her nervous.

She tried to read as just behind her the make-up artist fussed over to Yon. Her stylist turned her so she was parallel to the mirror. Carol smiled. It would be easier to focus if she had fewer distractions.

"Can I take your coat, Mr. Rogg?" The woman in the bubblegum pink sweater asked him. She leaned in close and he was forced to look away from his sullen costar.

"Of course," he said amiably. "Sorry, your name?"

"Tammy," she sparkled at him.

"Tammy," he repeated. Names were important on set. He shrugged his coat off and passed it to her. He feigned blindness as she smelled it subtly. The instinctive bringing of the collar to her nose. It was the strangest pressure, the selection of cologne. Not just what he wanted to smell like but what unknown women would want him to smell like. He took his seat in the make up chair. "I am sorry it is a rough canvas this morning."

Tammy giggled. She brought him coffee. Black. He must have answered that question in a magazine interview. Or she guessed. Or she was waiting for him to ask for milk and sugar. He never knew whose expectations he was failing to live up to. He smiled as he took it from her slightly shaking hands.

"I need to read," he said apologetically. It may be drivel but it was drivel he was being paid to say. He thought he heard a clicking tongue from the other chair. He narrowed his eyes at her bobbing blonde head.

"No problem," Tammy said taking his face in her hands and stroking the skin. She pressed her cool thumbs beneath his eyes as she stroked her hands along his quickly shaven face. He closed his eyes. There was always something so comforting about being in someone else's hands. To feel them assessing him. Making a road map. It made him step momentarily out of his body and live in the pressure of knowing hands. A brief second of relief.

"We have time," she assured him, even though he knew that was never the case. "Give me ten minutes, we will get a face mask on and I will switch with Kath and do Miss Danvers' face."

He heard rustling as Vers shifted in her seat.

"Miss Danvers also needs to read," she said childishly. Tammy's perfectly manicured brows drew together for a moment. Yon smiled assuringly.

"I could read aloud," he offered. "That will help."

She couldn't fuss if he was being generous.

He sipped his coffee. It was as terrible as he anticipated but there was something comforting about the assured awfulness of set coffee. It made any other drink ambrosia. His head felt like cotton wool as he reclined his head for Tammy. She lay a hot towel on his face and pressed around his nose and beneath his eyes. He enjoyed it for the moment, the fog of gin being pressed back. The first days were always like this. Best intentions quickly crumbling as they invariably fell behind. She rubbed exfoliator into his skin in soothing circles. It tingled as she wiped it off. He would be expected to do this from now on. Packets and bottles pressed into his hands at the end of the day or appearing in his hotel room. She spritzed him with toner that smelt of lavender before he heard the crinkling of a foil packet. The thick ooze was swiped beneath his eyes. It was cold and it tingled. She left him with his head reclined. He counted slowly before he forced himself to lift his heavy head.

The leftover gin swished.

He opened his eyes and was greeted by himself as a blue panda bear. He picked up the script and flipped to the scene. He picked up his cup and swallowed the dregs of coffee letting it burn a little.

_Interior Hotel Room_

_Mae Bright is pacing in her room at the Ambassador Hotel. It is too luxurious for her. It overwhelms the senses-_

"How do I do that?" She interrupted. Yon Rogg paused.

"Do what?"

"Be overwhelmed by a room with only three walls?" From her voice, he could tell she was panicking. She was a singer. This was new to her in a way it wasn't new to him.

"You'll be fine," he assured her, turning back to the script.

_Mae Bright is pacing in her room at the Ambassador Hotel. It is too luxurious for her. It overwhelms the senses. She looks at her red ballgown in the mirror. She runs her hands over the embellishments as if she cannot believe it is real._

_"I can do this."_

_She paces more. There is a knock. She stops. She knows she has to answer it. She takes a deep breath. She charges the door as if it is her last stand._

_On the other side is Edward. He pauses and takes her in._

Yon's eyes drifted up to Vers. Her face was being tipped back by Tammy. She was pressing foundation along her nose. Vers' mouth was moving adorably with him.

_"You look beautiful."_

"Are you going to say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like how you just said it."

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?" There was the rustle of her trying to turn and look at him. And the sound of Tammy exhaling in frustration. Yon Rogg sighed as he moved closer to her. At least she wouldn't have to turn.

_"Thank you."_

_Edward offers her his arm and Mae sweeps into the hallway. She takes one last look at her hotel room. As if she is leaving some piece of herself behind._

"This script is bossy."

"You don't have to listen to it."

"You're reading it."

"I meant when you are in front of the camera."

_Interior Ball Room_

_The Ambassador hotel parties are famous for their grandeur. This year is no exception. Cameras flash as Edward enters with Mae on his arm. She smiles nervously. He seems immune._

_"I don't belong here."_

_"Of course you do."_

_"Don't leave me."_

_"I won't."_

_There is a swell of reporters and Edward pushes them through the knot. He signals for security. On the other side, Mae straightens her gown._

_"Are you alright?"_

_"Gee, I can't take you anywhere."_

Yon Rogg looked up to see Vers grin as she mouthed the line. Her eyes were closed. She looked young and nervous but more importantly, she looked as if she was hearing something he couldn't.

She must have noticed the silence because she opened her eyes. She blinked at him for a moment and he held her gaze. She had smoky black around her eyes, but it was less heavy than the raccoon eyes they gave her on album covers. She had very pretty brown eyes, he realized. Her mouth twisted for a moment as if she was biting her lip then she burst out laughing.

"What?" He asked looking at the script. Was she finally going to admit it was inane?

"Nothing, Prince Charming," she laughed as Tammy tilted her face back.

It was then Yon remembered he was a panda bear.

* * *

Carol's ballgown was pushing her lunchtime bagel deep into the recesses of her ribcage. At least it looked pretty. She had dreamed of dresses like this since she was a little girl.

The reality was not what she expected. For starters, it was itchier. And she had already been in it for eight hours. The shoot pulled no punches. Their schedule so tight there was no room for multiple takes. Yon, she felt, had been perfect every second. And she had not been so bad that they had to stop so she was calling that a win.

They were shooting the waltz next. While Yon had been spirited away to film coverage that required him in his green velvet coat and crown, she had been working with the choreographer. Yon had been there before her. She could tell by the trail of stardust he left in his wake. Even the dance master had a twinkle in their eye. They assured her she would be in good hands.

She paced among the extras waiting for him to appear. Out of nowhere, they began dancing. She looked around in confusion as couples slowly turned together to the faint tinny music coming from a boom box around Bron's neck. She turned once, eye roving the set as she bit her lip, the crew seemed to be haphazardly at their stations. Had Fury said 'action' and she just had not heard?

Then the crowd parted and Yon entered. She was relieved to see him. So relieved she laughed at herself. He tilted his head and smiled at her as if he didn't understand her reaction.

"I don't know what I am doing," she admitted. He reached for her and she took his hand. She was in good hands she reminded herself. Even if he was an ass off camera. He smiled down at her as he placed her hand on his shoulder and took the other one in his. His hand on her waist was an anchor.

"I believe they call it 'dancing'," he said with a quirk of his mouth. It almost sounded like a line but everything fell from his mouth so naturally. She laughed nervously.

"I don't know if you can tell by looking at me but this isn't usually how I dance."

He turned her as the dance master had. Moving them within the confines of the extras. It felt a little like flying.

"No one can tell. You dance enchantingly."

"A compliment? From the Prince too. Be still my heart."

He held her a little closer as if to call her bluff. His costume had the strange sweet scent of storage. Beneath he smelled of coffee, lavender and mint gum. She adjusted her hand on his shoulder.

"I think you should admit I make you nervous," he whispered to her.

"Why would I admit that?" She asked as they swayed together. She wondered what Maria had told him. He cocked his head again. This time he licked his lips. As if deciding what he would say. What he could say.

She knew the small section of music was ending. They stopped as the weedy bars petered out. She curtsied like she had been taught. He held both her hands in his and kissed them. The dance master hadn't done that.

"I only bring it up because you are trembling," he teased. She felt herself leaning closer to him. She could feel the tremor in her hands where they rested in his. She wanted to deny it but he held her gaze. She knew she was breathing a little too fast. Standing too close. This didn't count she told herself.

"Cut," Fury shouted. She jumped pressing a hand to her pounding heart. "I have no idea of those were the damn lines but let's print it and keep rolling. Get me lights on the balcony."

"Forgive me," he whispered to her. "Fury wanted to catch you off guard." 

He walked away from her leaving her mouth hanging open. She was livid. She was embarrassed. She felt like she had been the butt of a joke she didn't understand.

As she watched his retreating back, his stride so smooth and confident, she was certain she hated him.


End file.
